


Hands

by two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat



Series: Bailor's Femslash February 2021 [14]
Category: Jagged Little Pill - Morissette & Ballard/Morissette/Cody
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Femslash February, Hands, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat/pseuds/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat
Summary: Frankie's hands are soft, ink-stained from too many writers workshops. Jo's hands are calloused, covered in splinters left by the church pews she helps move every Sunday.Rated M because like. This is a JLP fic meaning it talks about drugs and mentions sex so. Mature.
Relationships: Frankie Healy/Jo
Series: Bailor's Femslash February 2021 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139363
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4
Collections: Femslash February





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> listen ok my brain works like this. i see any fictional lesbian named jo and i jump to write fic abt them. also im love frankie.

Frankie's hands are ink-stained, dyed navy blue from too many writers workshops spent scribbling away and never sharing. She's someone who likes to sit on desks instead of behind them, who likes to scratch out notes in beat-up composition books, covers torn off and flipped backwards. "It's a statement," she tells Jo, and Jo hears her, even if Frankie doesn't think she does. Frankie Healy thinks that no-one ever listens to her, even when she's screaming out bits of poetry and justice, braided together in a quiet sort of harmony. But Jo does. Jo listens. 

Jo's hands are rougher than Frankie's. Calloused. Jo's hands are full of splinters she can't tear out, every Sunday spent wasted moving the long wooden pews from one side of the room to the other, pretending she's praying but really she's just stacking lawn chairs in her mind, seeing how high they can go, and when she sits in the confessional and says, "I'm a dyke" and pretends it doesn't hurt when the voice from the other side tells her she's a sinner, tells her to do a couple dozen rosaries and a quiet little prayer, Jo starts stacking things in her mind until she's drowned it out. Until she can't hear it. She's thinking about stacking desks, now. She wonders how high they might go. 

Jo gets high with Frankie, meaning Jo gets high and Frankie sits with her and makes sure she's okay, and Frankie's not one to do drugs because she knows how bad they can be, she's scared of getting addicted herself, and Jo remembers a time when she used to be scared but something inside of her went numb and she isn't, anymore, and she's holding Frankie's hands and they're _soft,_ and she realizes just how gentle Frankie is in this rough, calloused world and she clutches Frankie's hands tighter in her own and she tells Frankie "I think I'm seeing constellations that aren't there," and Frankie says, "I think you've gotten a bit too high," and Jo says, "I'm still grounded. I'm still grounded." and Jo remembers that they're sitting on the swing-set not far from church and Jo remembers something about a confessional and Frankie pulls that composition book from her pocket, out of nowhere, and starts to write something about prayer. 

Frankie's hands are soft as they move under Jo's shirt, undoing buttons quick quick quick and then pulling down her sports bra and then Jo wants to say something but they're in the back of the movie theater, the cheap one in town that shows all the movies that have been out for months, now, showing movies until the film reels tear and Frankie remembers how she wrote a poem about that, once, and she brings herself back to the moment when Jo kisses her and they're trying so hard to be quiet, but it's dark and this is the thousandth time the cinema's played this shitty action-thriller flick and the audience is near-empty and Frankie says something pretty and quiet so that only Jo can hear and then Jo's on her knees and pulling down Frankie's skirt and Frankie has to bite her own hand to keep from shouting profanities.

Frankie's hands are clutched around bedsheets and Jo doesn't know what to think when she finds that it's _Phoenix_ in that bed instead of her, Fuck Boy Phoenix who Frankie's only known for a _day_ but somehow he was welcomed into Frankie's bed after years of Frankie insisting she and Jo could never do _that_ in the house, it was too dangerous what if her mom found out? Except that Frankie doesn't seem to care when it's _Phoenix_ and she feels awful when she sees Jo's face and she wants to tell Jo something, _anything_ , but Jo lashes out and yeah maybe she was a bit high again, and then she's gone and then Phoenix is gone and it's all a blur where Frankie ends up on a train going north, and she refuses to look back behind her. 

She has to look back behind her. She left Jo behind her, and she can't call her parents to come pick her up, and Jo shows up in her car, a piece of crap that she picked up at a junk yard not long ago, adorned by a bumper sticker that says something about Jesus and saving, and Frankie thinks she wrote a poem like this, once, and when she's riding shotgun and Jo won't look at her she doesn't reach out for Jo's hands, for something to hold, something to bring her comfort. 

Frankie Healy reaches for her pen. 

She starts writing. 

**Author's Note:**

> anyways shoutout to the kings who keep reposting jlp boots online MWAH ily <3


End file.
